Half-Blood
by Floppyfloppyfish
Summary: Harry Potter is a Half-Blood in a world made for pure-bloods. He and his godfather Sirius Black struggle to change the world into a place where everyone has the opportunity to succeed.
1. Chapter 1: Diagon Alley

Welcome to my first ever fanfiction. Don't own Harry Potter, all the usual bollocks. Reposting the original stuff I uploaded with some extra stuff because I haven't touched this thing in over a year.

Sirius Black was not a happy man. His ten year old adopted son Harry was late home again, the second time that week. He was supposed to be in back home by 6pm, and it was approaching 7:30. Sirius was not worried, of course. There was nothing dangerous about Diagon Alley. He was merely frustrated that he had to eat alone, again. He and Harry lived alone in their London home, only one street from Diagon Alley. Unfortunately, that was about to change. In fact, Harry was supposed to be packing his belongings to leave their beautiful house for refurbishment. They were going to have to live in the Black's freshly cleaned ancestral home at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. The one thing the house elves couldn't clear from the dirty, grimy place was the bad memories Sirius had of the house. He had grown up in that house, and despite still being in contact with the remaining members of the house, Sirius had once nearly been disowned.

"Mr Black?" A voice called out from the front door, pulling Sirius from his glum contemplation. He made his way through the kitchen to the door and opened it, revealing their elderly neighbor, Mrs. Tofty. "I've got your son here, he was wondering around Gringotts, of all places! You really should be stricter with young Harry. He most definitely needs to act more like the pureblood he isn't if you want to go ahead with your foolish plan to send him to Hogwarts!" She made no indication of stopping talking and Harry looked like he might explode if she talked any further, so Sirius interrupted her. "Don't worry, I sent him to Diagon Alley, thanks, bye!" and before she noticed what was happening, she was stood on the far side of the closed door, on her way home.

Harry Potter was also not happy. He had been trying, once again, to get into his trust vault to retrieve enough funds to buy a very shiny, brand new Nimbus 2000. He knew he had plenty of money for one, but Sirius was adamant that his Comet 260 was plenty good enough until at least Harry's Second Year at school. It was a reasonable declaration, Harry supposed, after all, his birthday was one week from now, and exactly one week before his Hogwarts entry examination, and admittedly his revision wouldn't be as effective when interrupted by regular high speed flights. Besides, it was only 5 weeks until the school term started, and Hogwarts didn't allow First Years to bring broomsticks anyway. Harry's counter argument was that at the boringly named and similarly boring school Fortington School of Magical Education, children of any age could join the Quidditch team, and the Hogwarts acceptance letter only arrived on the 31st of August, far too late to make a significant purchase. Sirius, in an infuriating attempt to be responsible, had used this as an excuse for Harry to have extra preparation lessons with his good friend Remus. It was on the return from one of these trips that Harry had made his last ditch effort to bamboozle the goblins.

"So, would you like to tell me why Mrs. Tofty found you in Gringotts? Were you, by any chance, trying to get into your trust vault? You know the goblins won't let you in without a key..." Sirius said, exasperated. Harry had, of course, known that the goblins wouldn't let him in without a key, but he had an ingenious plan to get a new one made. He'd assumed they'd ask him to go through some security precautions, maybe a blood test, then they'd whip up a new key for him to fritter away his schooling money. He knew from his interactions with the goblins that they didn't care much for human responsibility, but he'd only been in the bank for five minutes when his old neighbour spotted him. He'd had to listen to her for ten minutes going on about how irresponsible Sirius was for letting him come down on his own, and Harry should have more respect, and know his place. Harry was a polite young boy, so he kept quiet, but he'd been about ready to fly off the handle by the time she deposited him in his house. He decided now would be a good time to change subject.

"Remus had me looking back over at recent Magical history again... it's been so long since I actually got to learn spell theory. He said that when I got my wand on my birthday we could do some. It's so unfair that me and Neville only get 2 weeks to practice with wands before the entrance exams, and the people born in September get nearly all year!" Harry ranted.

"Ugh, sorry kiddo, I hate history too. 'The goblins did this, the goblins did that, goblins are evil, muggles are barbaric, a bomb blew up the ministry in 1917'. It's so repetitive and boring,"

With a swish and a flick, Sirius floated the plates over to the sink. Immediately, an enchanted sponge began washing away.

The next week flew by as Harry and Sirius shifted their belongings from Satiric Alley to Grimmauld Place. Harry's birthday took place, in true Sirius style, amongst boxes and crates. There was a wonderful chocolate cake on the newly unpacked table, and as Harry blew out his candles, in came Neville, Harry's first and closest friend. "Neville!" Harry cheered. "Your gran gave you a break from studying then!" Neville grimaced. His confidence wasn't great at the best of times, and with the exam coming up, he was rather stressed. Neville's lack of much accidental magic throughout childhood meant that Augusta, his fearsome grandmother, was incredibly thorough in teaching him the theoretical side of magic. Unfortunately, this meant that he had even less time than Harry to relax. Harry wasn't really worried for himself or Neville, the tests weren't difficult, they were just a thinly veiled technique for preventing the entrance of Muggleborns and those without knowledge of the Wizarding World from entrance to Hogwarts.

Muggleborn students only found out about magic one week before their 11th birthday, giving them at most a year to prepare for Hogwarts entrance exams. Since the introduction of the exams in 1984, no muggleborn students had been admitted to Hogwarts, and not only did this prevent Muggleborns from getting a good Magical education and qualifications to get an important position in the Wizarding world, but it also gave the more easily fooled members of society the impression that muggleborn witches and wizards were less magically powerful than other members of society. If Harry passed the entrance exam he would likely be one of between one and five half bloods in his year out of eighty students in total. This segregation was not done through the tests, which anyone with 2 years of knowledge of the magical world could pass, but through tuition fees introduced in the same year. Prior to then, the ministry payed for Hogwarts through taxes, but this legislation made Fortington the government paid school, and Hogwarts required extensive fees. As most half bloods were not the main branches of their families, they didn't have enough money to afford to go.

He didn't have to look very far to find positives to this discrimination, however, because there was always a basic level of knowledge upon entrance, so they could go straight into things that required a theoretical knowledge of magic. They would be able to learn actual magic in the first week!

After a good helping of cake was had by all, it was time to head to Diagon Alley. Harry's hatred of the Floo wasn't pronounced enough that he wanted to walk for an half an hour to the Leaky Cauldron, so they walked through the dining room to the dingy living room, and Sirius lit the fire with the fire making charm. Since Harry had been ten he'd been trying to memorise as many spells as he could so when he got his wand he'd have a stacked arsenal. Harry had seen this particular charm so many times he thought he could probably do it on the first time, although he

still had no idea how magically powerful he was. Today was the day, though, that he would finally find out! Harry took a handful of Floo Powder, and threw it into the fireplace. The flames turned blue, and Harry stepped into the flames. "Diagon Alley!" Harry shouted, and a sudden whooshing sensation happened, and he stepped out of the fireplace into the Leakey Cauldron inn. At least, that was what was supposed to happen. In actuality, he fell out of the fireplace in a burst of soot and landed in a heap on the floor. Standing up and brushing himself down, and ignoring the funny looks from the patrons of the bar, Harry stepped away from the fire. Sirius stepped through behind him and laughed. "One day you'll be able to use _some_ kind of magical transportation..."

Harry, Sirius and Neville made their way to their first stop. It was a small and thin shop, a bit battered, with cracks in the paint, and a small hand-painted sign. Despite appearances, the shop was famous throughout Magical Britain, housing Mr. Ollivander, widely agreed as the best wandmaker in the country. His family had been making wands for an incredibly long time. The sign of the shop stated "Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C". Harry had walked past this shop many times, but never entered. Sirius opened the door with a loud creak, and they walked into the dimly lit shop. Harry was looking around for Mr. Ollivander, but he couldn't see him. His mind began to wander after five minutes, and it was a shock when he heard the words "Mr. Black. Excellent to see you." Harry looked up and saw a tallish man stood at the counter. His wide, silver eyes were staring into the space near Sirius, as though he were talking to the air rather than to Sirius. "Thirteen inches, ash, dragon heartstring, correct?" He didn't wait for confirmation before continuing, "very stubborn wand, that one, but you seem to have shaped it to suit you very well. Or should I say it has shaped you to fit it?" He let his sentence drop off mysteriously. Harry was now thoroughly creeped out. Suddenly, the man's eyes snapped into Harry's. "Mr Potter. How interesting." His eyes seemed fixed on the scar in the shape of a bolt of lightning on Harry's forehead. Harry was used to this gesture, because the scar was indeed very noticeable, but it was the way that Ollivander looked at it that disconcerted Harry. He looked at it intensely, but he appeared to understand... something... that Harry didn't. Harry gave a small involuntary shudder. "And of course, young Mr Longbottom." Those weary eyes moved over towards Neville. Neville seemed to shrink under his gaze, as though he didn't feel worthy to be in a wand shop. "I think I shall start with you." Sirius took Harry's arm and led him out of the shop.

"Why did we leave? Won't Neville be nervous?" Harry asked.

"Wand choosing is a very personal experience. We'll come back after I get you your other birthday present." Harry grinned. He'd already opened one present from Sirius, a fantastic new trunk, with minor undetectable expansion charms included, but Sirius had already told him that he'd get another later that day. Sirius covering Harry's eyes was a bit of a futile attempt because Harry had visited Diagon Alley so often that he knew it by heart, so he was especially excited when they arrived at Eeylopes Owl Emporium. Magical owls were one of Wizardkind's closest companions. They were highly intelligent, and built strong emotional ties to their owners. Some young witches and wizards, on arrival to the wizarding world, thought that owl's and human's souls were tied together and that was how some people understood their own owls but not others, however the truth was that it took years of companionship to reach this kind of emotive understanding of each other. It was also the case that Magical owls lived more than 5 times longer than their muggle counterparts, so often they could live as long as their wizards, in fact the oldest owls were as old as the oldest wizards. So it was with great excitement that Harry walked into the shop, for he would be choosing one of his closest friends for many years. After several minutes of walking around the shop, tens of pairs of beady eyes following him around the shop, he chose a beautiful, large snowy owl. She looked suspiciously at him as stood next to her cage, and when Sirius forked over 15 galleons for her, he carried her out of the shop.

When they arrived back to Ollivander's, Neville was stood outside, cheerfully examining his brand new cherry wand. "Cherry and Unicorn hair, eleven inches," he said proudly. It was a medium reddish brown, and it twisted into a darker colour at the handle. "He said it was powerful and consistent, and not to worry if it seemed unresponsive, because I would grow into it." Harry was becoming more and more interested in wandlore, because there seemed to be so many intricacies and Ollivander seemed to talk about wands as if they were sentient. He knew that Ollivander's family had been in the craft for thousands of years, and he wondered what secrets they'd accrued in that time. Ollivander was an interesting character, he was a halfblood in a long line of halfbloods, but nearly everyone in Britain went to him for wands. It was funny how prejudice dissapeared out of the window when a higher level of craftsmanship was at stake. Even more shockingly, they were included in the Sacred 28. Harry had no idea how.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter." Ollivander smiled at Harry, his smile seeming genuine. Harry wondered if he was happy after finding Neville a suitable match. He heard the door close behind him, and he swallowed. _I guess I'm on my own now_. Ollivander grabbed a magical tape measure and began measuring many aspects of Harry. Well, in actuality, the tape measure did al of the measuring, as it flew around on its own. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Ollivander pulled a sleek, shiny box off a shelf. He placed it on the counter, took out the wand, and indicated for Harry to pick it up. "Well? Give it a wave?". Harry held it lightly, and gave a loose flick of his wrist. His whole body jerked, and the wand seemed to jump out of his hand. "I think that's a no," Harry murmured, and Ollivander gave a chuckle, before walking over to the shelf again. The pile of rejected wands stacked up, and paradoxically Ollivander seemed to become more excited rather than less at each of his failures. He quietly muttered to himself each time, and several aspects of his shop had been damaged by the more violent reactions. He gave Harry a different wand, and once an entire vase shattered and Harry was nearly knocked to the ground, the old man abruptly barked "close, very, very close!".

He climbed up a short stepladder and whispered "Perhaps... I wonder..." before pulling out a very dusty wand, not in a box, and blew dust off it. He took a rag and delicately polished it before placing it gently into Harry's hands. A euphoric sensation overcame him, and suddenly he understood why Neville had seemed so happy before. He heard a loud noise, like wind in his ears and a golden light poured out of his wand, filling the room and immersing and basking Harry in glory, before fading away, and dispersing through the room. "Excellent... but oh so curious! that this of all wands has chosen you," Ollivander spoke quietly again. When an explanation didn't seem to be forthcoming, Harry prompted him. "Why?"

"Tell me, young Harry, what you know of a wizard they call Voldemort?" Harry immediately tensed, "He was the death eater who killed my parents! What does he have to do with anything?"

"Quite possibly a whole lot, Mr Potter, quite possibly..." his eyes seemed to again be fixated on Harry's scar. He felt as though Ollivander was trying to give him a hint, but about what, he had no clue. The euphoria of finding his wand seemed to have worn off completely. He began to fidget. "It's not my place to tell you any more than about your wand. Your wand is of holly wood. This has a tendency to choose wizards who need it, and who would struggle without it. This doesn't mean that you're weak, oh no, it means that you may have a hard stretch ahead of you. An important point about holly wands - their characteristics depend especially strongly on the core, and it is most difficult to get them to work with Phoenix feathers. Which brings me onto my next point: your Phoenix feather core!" He gave a wry smile. "Phoenixes are some of the most independent magical creatures in the world, and they are very rare, and so it is not common that a wandmaker finds one willing to give up its feathers. Most phoenixes give up to 10 feathers, this one gave me just two. Quite likely some day you may come across the other feather, and some day you may find the Phoenix. You will need to work hard to gain the allegiance of this wand, that I'm sure of, but once you do, the range of magic you will be able to perform could be extraordinary. 11 inches, and plenty supple." Ollivander's monologue ended somewhat anticlimactically, and when Harry handed over 35 galleons for his wand, he left the shop feeling an incredible mix of emotions. What did his wand have to do with Voldemort? Why might he meet this Phoenix? What did he mean "a hard stretch ahead of him"? Harry pondered this question as he returned back to Grimmauld Place with a still overexcited Neville and a cheerful Sirius.

Harry cast his first blue sparks on the day after his birthday. There was a thunderstorm that day, and he had seen lightning just before casting it. He didn't think that was significant, just thought it was funny. He was at Remus' house again, and he had only been holding his new wand for fifteen minutes when he succeeded in casting the "spell". Remus looked quite pleased with him, and gave him a small round of applause. In the four hours he was there, Harry had already been successful in putting into practice the theory that he had learnt in changing the colour of non colour integral magic. It wasn't a spell as such, but intent based magic. All he had to do was hold his wand correctly, hold it still, and think really hard. There were many different types of magic that he'd be learning at Hogwarts, but all he needed in the entrance exam in 6 days was sparks.

One slow week of hard studying crawled by, and finally it was the day of the exams. He said goodbye to his owl, ruffling her feathers and feeding her an owl treat. After much pondering he'd decided to name her after Hedwig, a thirteenth century witch with a fascinating story. She had been a witch, in a time when the pope had told the church not to investigate witchcraft, however, as witchcraft had been denounced in the Bible, when she became a nun she kept her magical nature quiet. When the knowledge of her secret escaped, she was not trialed, but was instead allowed to continue to work in a nunnery. She was canonised after death, and became the first (and only) witch saint. Harry loved the story because it showed that people could put aside their differences and live together in harmony. It also struck a chord with him because Saint Hedwig had looked after orphans, and although he now lived with his wonderful godfather, for 5 years of his life he'd had to live with the unloving and neglectful Vernon and Petunia Dursley, his aunt and uncle.

Harry entered the Ministry of Magic through the entrance in the telephone box, which he'd used a number of times before when Sirius had needed to take him along to the Wizengamot sessions in which Sirius participated. Why the exams took place in the ministry when they no longer had any official ties with Hogwarts Harry has no idea, but quite soon Harry was in a large hall with about 100 other young people. He sat down at a desk in silence, and in just a few minutes the written exam began. He was subjected to many questions about Magical History, from famous wizards to goblin rebellions, and odd questions about demographics of the Magical World. Then the paper moved onto basic Magical theory, which Harry was certain he'd ace, and before too long he was finished. He sat in silence for 10 minutes, looking back over his answers until there was a call for them to stop and stony faced magicians walked down the columns and collected sheets of paper. Next it was time for the short practical tests. Harry lined up in one of the five lines going into five small rooms. When it was his turn, about halfway, he entered a room to see a woman who looked very much like she didn't want be there at all. "Name?"

"Harry Potter,"

"Date of birth?"

"The 31st of July, 1980."

"Very well. Make blue sparks from your wand." Harry obliged, removing his Holly wand from his pocket. He held it in a straight arm pointing ahead and slightly up and willed blue sparks to come from his wand. They burst out of the end then fizzled and fell to the ground like ashes in the wind.

"Now red." Harry repeated the gesture, and sure enough a very similar set of sparks came from his wand, but this time they were red. The woman gave a short nod of acknowledgement before sighing and calling "next!" Harry left through the back door where Sirius was stood. "How was it?" Sirius asked. He looked kind of nervous and worried, so Harry decided he'd be nice. "It was fine, easy really," he said. Sirius gave an audible sigh, and then they departed the way they'd entered.


	2. Chapter 2: Hogwarts

The rest of August was warm, dry and sunny. There was very little rain and Harry spent nearly everyday on his old broom. Some days he visited Neville in his home where they partook in a number of activities, including Harry flying at Neville's home's pitch, which Neville exclusively declined to join in with, relaxing in the garden, reading in the library, and playing a number of fun games. It was quite a surprise, then, when the 31st of August seemed to appear in front of their faces out of nowhere. Harry was awoken by a loud tapping noise. He jumped out of bed, startled, before spotting that there was an owl at his window. He opened the window, chucked the owl a couple of treats, before untying the letter from the leg of the owl. Upon removing it, and seeing the intricate red wax seal on the back, he immediately called for Sirius, recognising that it was from Hogwarts. Harry hoped that Neville would be in a mad rush with 50 other families in Diagon Alley today, because that would mean that he had made it into Hogwarts. Sirius had already purchased the equipment Harry needed. Harry was becoming more and more nervous in anticipation of opening his letter.

"So, I guess by the loud shouting and the waking me up you got your letter," Sirius somehow succeeded in yawning sarcastically. He smiled to show no hard feelings as Harry grinned cheekily. "Open it up then!"

"'Dear Mr. Potter, we are pleased to inform you that you have received a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.' Yessssss!" Harry cheered, "'Enclosed is your ticket for the school train, at Platform 9 3/4, King's Cross Station, London, for Sunday, the first of September 1991. Also enclosed is a list of equipment required for first years at Hogwarts, and instructions for payment of fees.

Yours Sincerely,

Professor M G McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress'" Sirius clapped him on the back, visibly proud. Harry, practically bubbling, felt like jumping up and down. His godfather had told him so many wonderful stories about the school that Harry couldn't wait to go. Harry felt selfish when he only considered whether his friend Neville had got a place too when he was wondering if he'd be able to make friends at Hogwarts. He immediately ran to the Floo and made a call. Neville's grandmother's face appeared in the fire. "Hello?" Although the fire call did distort a lot, Harry could see a very uncharacteristic grin in Augusta's face. Harry grinned back. "I guess Neville got in too?"

"As was expected of him, naturally." Harry told her to pass on his congratulations, as he knew they'd be departing soon for school shopping. He decided now was the time to pack his things. He was going to be leaving tomorrow morning, after all.

Harry's new trunk was a godsend. He had to fit in all of his clothes, school uniform and weekend clothes, books for all of his subjects at school, extra books for supplementary learning, potions ingredients stored securely, his telescope, Cauldron, extra money, and extra space for anything he accumulated while he was at school, like homework and house scarfs. There was definitely no way that could fit into any old trunk. He wondered what it would be like in the days when people from muggle families were permitted, did they just carry about 5 suitcases?

It took a very long time for Harry to fall asleep, and after about an hour he got back out of bed. He looked out the window at the road running along by the house. The only light was leaking from the street lamps on Upper Street. Sirius had once run away from this house down that road. Harry's father's family had taken him in. Harry wondered if he'd ever have friends that close. Would he do that for Neville if he had to? Harry was pretty certain the answer was yes, but it was moot anyway because Neville's grandmother, despite her problems, did love Neville and would never let anything bad happen to him. He ran his hands though Hedwig's feathers once more before returning to bed.

Harry Potter was incredibly excited. He was stood in King's Cross and he was about to head into the platform where the Hogwarts express would be departing in 15 minutes. He quietly tutted when he heard a friendly looking woman he recognised as the Weasley mother talking loudly about Muggles. She was with 5 children, one boy he thought might be about his age. Sirius told him to go through the platform first, and Harry went through quite quickly. One would think that with constant exposure to magic for half of his life he'd be a bit more trusting of its success, but he still went through the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10 at a slow run with his eyes closed. When he reopened them, he was on a platform with hundreds upon hundreds of people. There was a gorgeous scarlet steam train on the tracks, and a mad push of people trying to get their things onboard. Hedwig hooted angrily at having to be in her cage, and eventually Sirius managed to get Harry's suitcase and Hedwig's cage to the luggage compartment. Sirius gave Harry a tight hug and looked rather emotional. Harry said goodbye to him and promised to be safe and come home for Christmas, and soon he was on the train in an empty compartment waving to Sirius through the window.

No one came into his compartment for a long while but eventually the red haired boy he'd seen before came in.

"Sorry, do you mind? Everywhere else is full," the boy said apologetically, as though he had to justify sitting with Harry. "I'm Ron by the way. I'm a first year."

"Harry. I'm in first year too," there was a long pause when no one spoke until Harry continued. "You're a Weasley right? It must be busy in your house with... how many of you? five?"

Ron grimaced for some reason."Seven. It's awful... there's constant bickering and we hardly have enough mon... Mum doesn't have enough time to... you know," Ron went bright red, but Harry had already heard about their difficult financial situation.

"Still, must be exciting." Harry said. Ron made a grunt noise that sounded as if he disagreed but didn't have the energy to argue.

"What have we got here?" A voice jerked Harry out of his pondering. There was a boy stood in the doorway, sneering. He was blond, and his skin was very pale. He had aristocratic, pureblood features. Harry recognised him as Draco Malfoy, the son of a former Death Eater, with his father very high up in Wizarding politics. "A Weasley and a Potter! I'm surprised the Weasleys have enough money to send even ONE of their kids to Hogwarts, did you have to go begging on the Muggle streets? Did you have to write your own textbooks?" Ron looked absolutely fuming, as though he was about to snap and punch the smarmy git. Just then, the train jerked into a start, and Malfoy stumbled. "Are you that shocked at the sight of me that you'd fall over, Malfoy? Would you like to kiss my feet?" Harry wasn't sure what came over him, but this boy really got on his nerves. Malfoy sneered. "As if I'd come close enough to you to smell your filth, Half-blood," He swaggered out of the compartment, laughing at his own jab. Ron still looked incredibly angry, but he asked Harry a question. "Are you Harry Potter, that's what he called you right? Aren't you... well... didn't your parents..." he left his phrase hanging. Harry gave a sad smile. "Yeah... I live with my godfather now. He's great."

"Really?" asked Ron. "Only... I heard he was a on the other side before, you know, in the war."

"Sirius? What?" Harry had never heard this rumour before, and to be frank, he was furious. "Sirius would never do that! How dare you!" He was going to unleash a rant, when again, the door opened up once again. In pottered Neville. "Harry! I've been looking for you! Why were you shouting?"

"Weasley here said that my godfather was a Death Eater!"

"There was a rumour that he was, I thought you knew? Obviously it wasn't true, but that's not Weasley's fault!"

Harry's anger subsided a little but he was still very shocked that anyone could consider the possibility that Sirius was anything less than perfect. Still, he thought, I guess not everyone's met him. Now that he thought about it, it did kind of make sense, he'd regularly seen people flinch when around him and the like. "I guess," Harry said. Ron looked a little worried.

"I haven't, I mean, I can leave now if you want..." Ron said meekly. Harry was going to tell him it was fine but Neville got there first. "We're not going to kick you out for making a mistake. I'm Neville Longbottom." He held out a hand for Ron to shake. Ron took it firmly and shook it. "Ron Weasley."

"Anything off the Trolley, dears?" Came a voice from the door, breaking up the three of them and their amicable conversation. Taking pity on Ron, Harry and Neville bought a little extra than they needed to share with him. The rest of the train journey passed smoothly, with conversation ranging from home, to school, to Quidditch. Ron, it turned out, was a fan of the Chudley Cannons, quite possibly the worst team in the entire league.

Soon, in burst a girl with the most unruly hair Harry had ever seen, including his own. "Hello, my name's Hermione Granger, I'm sorry to intrude but I wanted to ask what houses you're all going to be in, I really want to make an informed decision, I'm leaning towards Ravenclaw or Gryffindor, I originally liked the sound of Slytherin but the people in that compartment on the train said that I should shut up and that I was acting like a mudblood of course I don't know what one of those is I'm not from a magical family you see and it's not in any of the books I read." Harry felt his heart sink for the girl because he was quickly realising she was Muggleborn, and that she had an awful few years approaching. On the one hand her enthusiasm seemed like it should be a breath of fresh air, but he already knew she was going to be insufferable. He glanced over to Neville and Ron, and saw their surprised looks. Ron's mouth seemed to be stuck open. Harry felt a certain level of intellectual curiosity about how this girl would be treated in Hogwarts, as the first new Muggleborn for 7 years, but the more he thought about it he more Harry was sure it wouldn't be pleasant for anyone involved. He would have to warn the girl about the prejudice in their world.

"Hermione, I know this might sound insensitive or something, but you might want to... aghhhh I don't know how to say this... keep it quiet, about your parents," Harry began, half expecting her to snap at her.

"Is this about that Blood Purity thing I read about?" She asked, cutting him off. Harry gave a stiff nod. "I was hoping that wasn't going to be much of a problem because we're all kids here, and besides I thought the whole thing was about magical power, and I passed the test, sooo..."

Neville grimaced. "It's a lot worse than in the books..." Hermione's face fell, and Harry felt her crushing disappointment nearly as much as she did. "You can still be yourself, but... just be careful, we don't want you to get bullied."

They let Hermione sit with them for the rest of the train journey and rather than the genial conversation before they filled her in a lot of the intricacies of wizarding life, and, inexplicably, by the time they reached the station, Hermione had, for some reason, already returned to her overexcited self.

There were 20 little boats floating on the lake filled with excited, hyper, happy eleven year olds, and 1 boat filled with an equally happy, very large man, called Rubeus Hagrid. Hagrid was always happy when this time of year rolled by, because he got to witness firsthand the awe and fascination of young children seeing the beautiful Hogwarts castle for the first time. This time, there was a little boy there that Hagrid hadn't seen since one sad day 10 years ago, the day two of his dearest friends perished. Lily Evans had always enjoyed visiting the friendly gamekeeper while she was at school, and was very glad to keep up the tradition after she left. James Potter was a complete nuisance, but he did it in a nice way, and although his spirit had been carried on by the Weasley twins, he still missed him.

Harry's boat had four people in it, the three boys from the train, and a small, very shy girl called Sally-Anne. From what he could understand of her very quiet speech, she was brought up by her witch mother on her own.

The boats went round a corner, and suddenly visible was the beautiful, majestic castle of Hogwarts. Harry had seen photographs, of course, but Hogwarts seemed more magical than he had ever imagined. He almost danced with anticipation of the next 7 years. Soon, the boats were at the other side of the lake. Harry looked up and saw the tallest tower in the castle, and he knew from what Sirius had told him that it was Gryffindor tower. He knew what it looked like on the inside too, because that's where loads of Harry's photos of his Dad were taken. As Hagrid, the impossibly large gamekeeper, knocked on the huge, rich, mahogany double doors. The door opened and there stood a severe looking middle aged witch. "Good day, thank you Hagrid, and welcome to Hogwarts. Come in." The band of small children yapped at her heels like a pack of puppies. As they were walking across a massive hallway, more like a hall, she began speaking again. "You are now in one of the greatest, and one of the oldest, magical schools in the world. As such, a certain type of behaviour is expected of you at all times. This is a place for you to learn your place in the magical world, and you should put you utmost effort into each and every endeavour." She suddenly smiled. "You will all love your time here, I promise."

She opened the door to the great hall and soon they were in Great Hall. It was even bigger than he expected. The ceiling was enchanted to look just like the sky, and he could see everyone craning their necks to look at it. It was nearly dark outside, and he wondered if by the end of the feast he'd be able to see any stars. There was only one long table all the way down the hall for each house, and then at the end, sideways, there was a slightly elevated table at which all of the teachers stood. The new first years paraded all the way down the hall on the right hand side until they were sat on a bench parallel to the High Table. He noticed a three legged stool, with an old raggedy hat on it, it had a funny seam about three quarters of the way down that went right across. He wondered if it might be something to do with the Sorting, which Sirius had remained stubbornly silent about. "The sorting ceremony is about to commence. Please wait until your name is called, then step forward and place the hat upon your head." Professor McGonagall confirmed his suspicions. Harry head a girl whisper "isn't it meant to sing a song?" and Harry sniggered at the mental image of a hat singing. He was surprised, then, when he heard Ron's answer. "My brother Bill says it stopped doing that in his third year. He reckons it was because Charlie came to the school." There were a few chuckles at that, but Harry was wondering why the hat sung in the first place, and why it had stopped now.

Harry was just beginning to get nervous about his sorting, when Professor McGonagall called out the first name. "Abbot, Hannah." Harry knew the family, they were one of the Sacred 28, he thought idly as a little blond girl with pigtails half ran to the stool. It was only a few seconds before the hat shouted "Hufflepuff!". The Abbot family wasn't specifically a Hufflepuff family, they often had members go to Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. "Bones, Susan". Came shortly afterwards, Harry had met her before; her Auntie Amelia was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, spurred on by the unfortunate deaths of most of her family in the Death Eater War. After a little while, it was Hermione's turn. She had pointed out on the train that there was a reasonably famous Half-Blood called "Dagworth-Granger" and she could mention this when her Blood Status came under question, probably from someone like Malfoy. She sat under the hat for the longest time yet, and when the hat finally called out "Gryffindor!" she gave a little sigh of relief and a big grin. Harry was quite surprised: he'd taken her for a Ravenclaw. He wondered how the hat sorted people. Later, it was Neville's turn. His sorting took nearly as long as Hermione's, the third longest so far. When the hat shouted "Gryffindor", Harry thought Neville might faint, with how hard he'd seemed to be concentrating.

The sorting ceremony was taking a long while, Harry assumed it was designed when the school was smaller, but eventually they reached the P's. "Parkinson, Pansy" went to Slytherin. "Patil, Padma" to Ravenclaw, and her twin "Patil, Parvati" went to Gryffindor. Harry wondered how they'd feel about being separated. Were they the type of twin that can't bear to be separated? The girl from the boat shyly walked to the hat and was quickly sorted into Hufflepuff. _No surprises there_ Harry thought. "Plunkett, Adrianna" went to Slytherin, which was unexpected considering her family, and finally, it was Harry's turn. If he'd known the teachers a bit better, he would notice the uncharacteristic breaks in demeanour of many of the teachers at the call of his name, but to be honest he hadn't looked at the High Table once. What he did notice, however, was a quiet murmur of recognition across the hall. He walked confidently towards the hat (although his legs felt like they were about to turn into jelly) and he sat on the stool. He placed the hat on his head, and then nearly threw it right back off when a loud voice spoke directly into his mind. " _Hello!"_

 _Ah, so this is how we get sorted. That's cool._

 _"Hmmm, so I'm seeing a lot of Gryffindor tendencies here, a lot."_

 _"Hmmmmmmmm,"_

 _"Goooood, Gooood"_

 _"Oh, yes excellent"_

 _"Yes, I'm thinking Gryffindor. You could definitely do well in the other houses, and they'd do well to have you in them, but my job is to sort you. Unless you have any complaints?"_

The next words were shouted out loud. "GRYFFINDOR it is." Harry grinned broadly and the cheers seemed louder than ever now that they were for him. He walked over and sat next to Neville, just as the next student, "Proudfoot, Samuel" went to the chair.

"Weasley, Ronald" was called, waking Harry from his impatient stupor. His sorting was almost as short as Malfoy's, but he went to Gryffindor rather than Slytherin. He sat next to Harry, amid jeers and shouts from his older twin brothers, and then after "Worme, Isra" and "Zabini, Blaise" were both sorted to Gryffindor, the Headmaster of Hogwarts gave a speech. Harry recognised him as Albus Dumbledore, a world renowned wizard, accepted by most to be one if not THE most powerful wizard alive today. Other than being headmaster of a very prestigious school, he was also a powerful political figure, Head of the International Confederation of Wizards, and he had even used to be Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, although he had lost this to limit his power. Harry could see by looking at him how old he was - very. "Hello, everyone, and welcome back to a new term at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Before I let you eat, because I'm sure you're all very hungry, I would like to give a few short words." Harry groaned out loud. "Here they are! Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment, Tweak!" He clicked his fingers and in the middle of the tables appeared the biggest feast Harry had ever seen in his life. There were plates upon plates of delicious foods, meat, vegetables, pastry dishes, everything. He heard Percy Weasley, Ron's brother, tell Ron to save some space for desert, because it was just as nice. Harry's stomach groaned in anticipation.

Harry conversed with lots of people he'd never seen before about all sorts of things, from school, to Quidditch, to gobstones and chess. Harry had just finished his plate of treacle tart (it was delicious) when another click of Dumbledore's fingers cleared the tables. He gave a reminder that the Forbidden Forest was named such for a reason, and told them about Argus Filch the caretaker's new restrictions on items you couldn't have in school. He seemed to be looking at Ron's twin brothers when he said this, and Harry guessed that perhaps they might be somewhat mischievous. He ended his speech with a warning. "The third floor corridor is out of bounds for everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death." A few people laughed at this, but Harry noticed that the characteristic twinkle in his eye and smile were gone, so he couldn't help but take him seriously. Hermione opposite him looked alarmed right at him, and Harry couldn't help but agree. What was it that could be dangerous enough to close of an entire floor of Hogwarts? And more importantly, what the hell was it doing in a school?

He was still worrying about it when they had followed Percy Weasley to Gryffindor tower. When he voiced this to Ron when they were getting ready to go to the bed for the first time in their new home, Ron told him he was overthinking it. "It's Dumbledore!" He seemed to think this was an explanation.


	3. Chapter 3: 7 points

Harry woke up in the morning and was disorientated for a moment, before remembering that he was in Hogwarts. He looked at the small clock he had by his bedside, the one he'd brought from home and he saw that it was 6:30 AM. He drew the curtains all around his red four poster bed and slipped out of his pyjamas and struggled into his clothes all under his duvet. He yanked back the curtains and leapt out of bed. He could hear Ron snoring quietly and the two dorm mates he hadn't spoken to yet had their curtains firmly drawn around their beds. However, Neville's bed had the curtains pulled back and the sheets were messily thrown back. Harry walked down to the common room, to see that Neville was sitting on his own on a comfy armchair. He looked up at Harry. "Our parents used to sit here and chat."

"Yeah. And Sirius."

"I wish they were here, do you think they'd be proud we got into Gryffindor?"

"Of course."

"Mmm," Neville said, and they lapsed into silence. Soon it was 7:00 and the rest of the house slowly filtered through. Ron arrived at 7:30 and they headed down to breakfast together. Ron was practically bubbling, and Harry was certain he hadn't noticed his and Neville's quiet moods. After a long trip downstairs following some older students they were in the great hall for breakfast. The tables were a lot emptier than the previous evening and Harry had his favourite cereal, Fizz Bits. "So, when do we get our timetables, then?" He asked an older student. The girl looked cross to have her breakfast interrupted, but answered nonetheless. "Go to Professor McGonagall at the High Table. What did you think the queue was for, autographs?" Harry rolled his eyes and stood up to ask for his, Neville's and Ron's timetables. "Ha... Mr. Potter. Here is the first year Gryffindor group 1 timetable." She handed him a small sheet of parchment. Harry asked her for Ron's and Neville's. "Very well." By the time Harry got back to his friends they had finished their breakfast.

Harry knew they had four lessons every day, each with members of another house. Fortunately, Harry saw, he, Ron and Neville were all in the same group, so they shared all their classes. On the first day, they had Charms, Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Potions. From what Remus had said, these were the hardest subjects, but also the most important. Harry could tell be the groan next to him that Ron had come to this conclusion also. "Sirius told me that Snivillus Snape is the main potions professor." Harry mentioned to Neville. "Snape? Fred and George told me about him." Ron looked like he was about to shudder. Snape had a reputation in the school for being very strict and biased against Gryffindors. Harry had a little bit of extra insight, because Sirius and he had been rivals during their own time at Hogwarts.

The three of them arrived at Charms with plenty of time to spare, but the classroom was nearly full of Ravenclaws and fellow Gryffindors, so when Neville and Harry sat together, Ron had to sit next to one of the other Gryffindor boys, Damion Harkiss. Harry could see Hermione nattering excitedly at one of the Ravenclaw girls, who looked about half as enthusiastic as Hermione did. Soon, the Charms professor, Filius Flitwick, walked into the room. He was impossibly small, and soon he was stood on a stack of books so he could see the whole class. This seemed an incredibly inefficient solution to what Harry assumed was a long term problem. He read out a register, and then launched into a speech on the importance of Charms. Of course, everyone in the room knew how important Charms were; they saw them used on a daily basis, after all! Still, Harry supposed, it was good to see that their professor was enthusiastic. "Right. Let's get straight into our first lesson." The professor finished, grinning. "Wands out! Ok, so you all know how to hold a wand, otherwise you wouldn't be here. So we can go immediately into our first topic. Movement of objects, Unit 1! Now, I'm sure you've all seen our first spell performed, the levitating charm, Wingardium Leviosa. Repeat that after me. Wingardium Leviosa." By the end of the lesson, they had gone over the wand movements ("Swish and Flick") too but no one had succeeded in casting it yet, even after seeing it many times in their lives. Harry had thought he was almost succeeding when he felt that wonderful flood of warmth in his arm that he had only ever felt a few times, but it seemed to dissipate from his arm before it reached the wand. Professor Flitwick's excitement hadn't diminished. "Don't worry that it's taking time, it will take time to break in your wands!" he told them cheerfully.

Transfiguration was next, and the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs met the Gryffindor Head of House properly for the first time. She opened up their lesson with a warning. "Transfiguration is one of the most useful Magical arts, however it is the most dangerous thing you will learn at Hogwarts. As such, I expect a particularly high level of care and concentration in each of your lessons. At no point this year will you perform Transfiguration unsupervised or unsanctioned. Is that clear?" Harry could tell by looking at her face that she meant serious business. There were a few affirmative mumbles and she continued onto their first lesson. Harry already knew what she said next, that Transfiguration was different to most of the magic he had seen, because most Transfiguration exercises had no incantation, as it was intent based magic, like sending sparks. "Because of this, most of you will be able to see a small amount of success in this first lesson. Right. I have placed matchsticks on each of your desks. We shall be transfiguring them into needles. In this lesson you shall each attempt this, and when I see you again on Thursday, Professor McKinnon will have gone over some theory with you, and you should be able to perform this perfectly." As they tried, she patrolled the classroom, giving pointers to some people as she passed. After half an hour in which no one had had any success she told them all to stop. She stood at the front of the class and cast something (engorgio, Harry presumed) on a matchstick in front of her and it grew 10 times bigger. With a fluid movement of her hand and whole arm, the matchstick pointed on the end and a silver colour slid across it. There was even an eye on the other end. Reinvigorated, they all started trying again. Not long later Harry felt the biggest rush of magic he had ever felt, and the matchstick went silver the whole way across as he flicked his wand from one point to the other. There was even a slight sharpening at the match end. Harry grinned widely, as did Ron sat next to him. "Bloody hell, mate! That's a needle!" Professor McGonagall strode over to Harry's side. "Well done, Mr Potter." She seemed to scrutinise it. She then looked him in the eyes and snapped it deliberately in half. "The inside of the match is still wooden. Make it metal the whole way through before working on the details." She walked over to the demonstration needle. "Diffindo," she said clearly, and the huge needle severed in half. She showed the class the shiny centre of the needle. "Move your wand slower and more deliberately, and push more magic through your wand." Harry heard a snicker and looked behind him to see a boy he knew, Ernie Macmillan. "If he has any!" Ernie whispered to the boy next to him. They both laughed. Professor McGonagall, however did not. "One point from Hufflepuff." Harry wondered if the joke was about his blood status, and knowing Ernie, it probably was. By the end of the lesson half the class had managed what Harry had, with only Hermione and a girl named Susan managing to turn it to metal the whole way through. Ron's match was a little shiny, Harry supposed.

They had an hour for lunch. They went straight to the great hall, which was very full with uniformed students. The food was laid out across the table buffet style, and there was again lots of variety. Harry took some sandwiches and decided to ask Hermione how her first morning had been. "It's been everything I imagined!" She beamed. "I can't wait for this afternoon." Harry was sincerely glad she had enjoyed it, and wondered how she'd be if they hadn't caught her before she spread her blood status around. "Defence Against the Dark Arts next," Harry said. "I wonder who the practical teacher is this year."

"What do you mean, this year? Are they new?"

"There's a new one every year. Some people reckon it's cursed, because something always seems to stop them coming back a second year."

"Hmm," Hermione seemed to ponder the implications. "So they won't have much experience then?"

"Probably not."

"Hmm."

"Good afternoon class. I am Professor Eldritch. I will be instructing you how to defend against the Dark Arts. We will learn spells and other practical skills in your class with me, and you will be learning about the sort of threat you may expect to see in your life outside of school. First, however, a warning. The Dark Arts are not to be trifled with. There is a constant, real threat, and you must NEVER underestimate a Dark Artist. And anyone could be a Dark Artist, even those you think could never be." Harry felt uneasy. He had always known that people in their society practiced dark magic, but the way Professor Eldritch said it, it sounded like they could be around the nearest corner. "Today, we learn a spell. You will find that your lessons with me may cross over somewhat Charms. However, because you have already had a lesson with Professor Flitwick, it will be in my class that you will cast your first incantation spell. I assume?" A few people nodded. "Remember, this is Defence Against the Dark Arts. You will be using spells which you can use on other people to defend yourself. If I hear of you using these spells against other students unsanctioned, the punishments will be... severe." He pointed his wand at an inscribed tile on the wall. "Flipendo," he calmly spoke, and the tile spun around in a circle. He then pointed his wand at a barrel on the floor. "Flipendo!" He shouted. The barrel rolled quickly from one side of the demonstration area to the other. "The knockback jinx. But, why are we learning this in DADA? Because this can be used on people too. Anyone volunteer? I promise you'll only get winded." Their fellow Gryffindor, Damion Harkiss spoke up immediately. Professor Eldritch called him to the front of the class, and the boy went down the stairs to the front of the room. He seemed to be looking dubiously at the hard floorboards behind him, when the Professor pointed his wand right at the boy's chest. "Flipendo!" he said, with a force halfway between the two prior demonstrations. "Oof!" Damion flew back about a foot and landed on the floor, but instead of the hard thump Harry expected, he landed as if the floor was cushioned. Harry wondered what kind of magic the Professor had used to get this effect. "Your go now," Eldritch said, and he went through the list of students one by one, in alphabetical order, giving each student a go. It only took each person 3 or 4 attempts to get the tile they were practicing on to spin around. When it was Harry's turn, on his second attempt he felt that strange sensation again. The tingly warmth traveled down his arm and straight through his wand and a small burst of white light was channeled into the tile. The tile spun around, and the Professor congratulated him, before moving on.

Harry, Neville, Ron and Hermione stood in the dingy dungeon of Hogwarts. They were the first to arrive outside the Potions classroom, awaiting their first lesson with the infamous Potions Professor, Severus Snape. "I'm so excited! It's Potions! What can be more witchy than that?!" Hermione was bubbling over about the upcoming lesson. "Double, Double, Toil and Trouble, Fire Burn, and Cauldron Bubble," she continued in her witchiest voice.

"What on Earth does that mean?" Ron giggled.

"Honestly, Ron, it's Shakespeare. Don't tell me wizards don't know about Shakespeare..."

"I think I've heard the name?" Ron said. Hermione sighed.

Soon, the rest of the Gryffindors and the Slytherins were all waiting in the chilly corridor, when a voice came through the thick wooden door to the classroom. "You may enter." The door opened, and the students all filed into the classroom, and sat at desks in pairs. The room was square, and had an elevated lip at the front of the classroom, upon which Professor Snape stood next to a very messy desk, a cauldron and a blackboard. His eyes roamed across the room. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of Potion-Making. This should be your most difficult class, but, if you put in the required amount of work, it could be your most rewarding. However, be warned. I do not suffer fools." He seemed to glare directly at Harry, who stared resolutely back. "If you wish to fool about in my lessons, I'm afraid you will have a most unpleasant time here at Hogwarts," he warned. "In my lessons, you will brew hundreds of potions. You will learn to recognise the beauty of a softly simmering solution, the great power that can be realised with a splash of liquid running through the veins. You will learn the discipline of how to follow instructions properly," he glared at the class again. "And if you're lucky, you will learn the art in intuiting how to best get the results you need."

By the end of the lesson, the Gryffindors thoroughly disliked Snape ("five points from Gryffindor for speaking out of turn"), but they had all succeeded in making their first potion, the Copper-Pot Potion. The Professor made his way around the classroom, taking a small sample vial of potion from each cauldron, before vanishing the remainder from the cauldrons. Harry thought he seemed quite tame compared to how Sirius had described him. That was... until Snape walked past Harry's cauldron. "Ah." Snape sneered at the cauldron viciously. "I see you've inherited your father's 'talent' for Potion-Making. I don't think I've EVER seen someone do quite this badly at the copper-pot potion. Even Longbottom and Weasley over there did better than you!"

"I highly doubt it Sir," Harry shot back. "I'm working with Hermione, see." A couple of people snickered.

"Seven points from Gryffindor." Half of the class groaned. A couple shot an angry look at him.

As the class filed out of the dungeon, Harry, Neville, Ron and Hermione made their way to the Great Hall because Dinner started at 5:30 every day. They arrived with a crowd of hungry people and sat at the Gryffindor table. The dinner that day was a large selection of delicious soups. Harry had a carrot and orange one with a white bread roll. It was divine, and Harry sat contentedly as he waited for the others to finish. Before long, one of Ron's twin older siblings had arrived. "So, how was Potions?" He grinned.

"Terrible," Harry groaned. "I lost 7 points for Gryffindor already!".

"7 points?" whichever twin it was shook his head. "I can scarcely believe it!"

"Unbelievable," the other twin said, inexplicably popping up from underneath the table. "And to think we thought you were a good student!"

"Oh, shut up Fred, I know for a fact you'd lost 10 each by the end of your first day." Ron rolled his eyes and ate the last mouthful of soup. "You ready to go?" He asked the others.

"DON'T STAND UP!" one of the twins' fellow third years shouted urgently. After an odd look from Harry she continued. "Why was that Weasley twin touching your shoelaces, Ron?"

"What have you done?" he growled.

"Only one way to find out," George replied, grinning.

"Oh, move over," Hermione told Harry. She pointed her wand at Ron's shoelace and spoke clearly. " _Finite incantatem!"._ A thin jet of red light shot out, and struck the shoelace.

"Thanks!" Ron said, before falling to the ground the instant he stood up. It turned out George had just tied his shoelaces together.


	4. Chapter 4: Boredom

When Harry walked into the common room at quarter past 6, he was surprised to find that the common room was already fairly full of people who were livelier than he would expect of teenager before sunrise. He was definitely not in the mood for socialising with strangers this early, and there was an empty seat by the window. There was a spectacular view as he looked out across the Hogwarts grounds; Gryffindor Tower was one of the furthest points out from the main castle and raised high enough that Harry could just about see the entire way across the huge lake that nearly enclosed the castle on 2 sides, sparkling and glittering with the yellow morning light. He asked a third year who was sat on her own nearby what direction the greenhouses were but they were all the way on the other side of the castle so Harry couldn't get a glimpse at the place where his first lesson of the day would be. The third year turned out to be called Patricia and wished Harry the best of luck in his time at Hogwarts. He didn't get the impression that she wanted to talk particularly, so he decided to leave her in peace. Before too long a sleepy looking Neville made his way down the spiral staircase from the dorms and wanted to use the hour or so they had before breakfast to get a better handle upon the layout and structure of the building they'd be living in. Ron had told them the previous night that under no circumstances was he to be woken up before 8:30; breakfast didn't finish until a quarter past 9 and so he'd have plenty of time.

The two old friends made their way around the winding corridors inside the curtain walls that took them from the Gryffindor tower to the grand staircase. Neville asked Harry whether he would be continuing to learn his hobby since a young age, art. Harry would: Sirius had come to an arrangement with the teachers that Harry's teacher since a young age, not long after he first moved in with Sirius, would continue to give him lessons in an unused classroom in the castle. Apparently it wasn't unheard of, some people at Hogwarts were taught things like musical instruments or dance, or even tutored in the unique magical talents that some people had. Harry dearly wished that he'd won the genetic lottery and lucked out with something like being a Metamorphmagus or a natural occlumens, although, thinking about it, Harry realised he did have a skill that he'd lucked out in getting.

"Penny for your thoughts," came Neville's voice, repeating a phrase Harry had heard often from Neville's grandmother.

"I'm just thinking about... my particular linguistic talent..." Harry said, and Neville understood what he was referring to. Harry had never had the dilemma of whether or not to tell Neville about his ability because Neville had known just as long, and possibly even a little longer than Harry had known himself. Neville had been with Harry at the time on that interesting day when Harry was 9, at the Longbottoms' sizable family home North of Leicester. The boys' playful antics had startled an Adder that slithered away as fast as it could. Harry had called an apology towards the fleeing reptile, and to the surprise of Harry, Neville and the snake, his apology had come out as a hiss. The proud snake had claimed that he was leaving anyway. Harry didn't believe it.

Harry and Neville decided to look around the rest of the floor they had walked through on the curtain wall. A methodical approach would be the quickest way of finding all the cool bits. It was a surprisingly large area considering it was just a perimeter wall - there was enough space for a room on both sides of the corridor in most areas and the wall itself had 5 floors including the ground floor. So much of the wall was dotted with paintings and tapestries. The paintings often moved about and spoke quietly to them, exhibiting many eccentric personalities from numerous centuries. The tapestries varied from heraldries from old families, depictions of past events and some just pretty patterns. They quickly gave up looking into every single room. Almost all of them were entirely empty and devoid of furnishings, with only a few being filled with desks and chairs indicating they used to be classrooms. In all, on that floor there were at least 15 rooms, all of them unused, and Harry and Neville wondered why. Neville had speculated that there could be enough spare rooms in Hogwarts to protect the people of Hogsmeade in a siege - after all, that was the whole point of a castle. It could also be true that the number of students in Hogwarts used to be much greater in the past. Whatever the case, they knew that there would be no shortage of places for the two of them to go when they needed a room, or some peace and quiet... and hopefully, no shortage of secrets for them to find.

Their loop took them back round, fortunately, to the Gryffindor tower at about half 8, so they fetched Ron and headed down the stairs to the Great Hall, and they ate their breakfast. Ron was brought up to speed on what had been going on that morning, including stories about some of the more interesting portraits that they had come across, including Professor Basil Fronsac who had told them a little about what Hogwarts was like when he was headmaster about 100 years prior, and an incredibly gap-toothed witch from a long time ago who was particularly fond of cackling, winking, and nattering away animatedly in Middle English.

It was the 5th year Gryffindor prefect Percy Weasley, Ron's brother, that showed them to their Herbology greenhouse. They followed a long path around the edge of the castle and along the edge of the cliff that went down to the lake. It was quite a trek, but eventually they crossed a polished, varnished wooden bridge across a river that fed into the lake. There were a dozen greenhouses lining the way along the river on both sides and Professor Sprout stood outside the nearest one, a denim apron on and a beaming smile on her face. She was a short and wide witch with a hat over short grey hair, and a lot of earth all over her clothes. Percy pompously handed them over to her and departed. Not long later, a group of first year Hufflepuffs arrived and the Professor welcomed them, her smile somehow becoming even wider.

Shortly after they entered the nice and warm Greenhouse 3, Sprout began her introductory lecture, which was one of the most interesting yet. Like a lot of other teachers, she began with a warning. "Herbology may seem like it should be simple, repetitive and relaxing. It can be any of these things sometimes, however another thing it can be is dangerous. We will, fairly soon be dealing with plants that can cause you harm. Would anyone care to tell me how a plant may cause harm?"

Hermione, of course, was quick to answer, informing the students that a variety of dangers could be posed by Herbology, as a lot of magical plants were, to some extent, sentient, and they were often very willing to use defence mechanisms. Sprout elaborated upon Hermione's 'excellent' description (3 points to Gryffindor) by telling, and showing, the students examples of plants with these mechanisms. There were Spiky Bushes, which were capable of firing their big yellow thorns at people when threatened, Bouncing Bulbs, that are bulbs that are a particularly fond of jumping about, including jumping at people who threaten them, and according to Ron, closely related to a little girl that lived near him, and lastly Devil's Snare, a tentacle-like plant that was fond of strangling people that got too close to it, but was terrified of sunlight.

The remaining hour of their first lesson was spent dealing with a much less dangerous plant, and learning basic herbological techniques, repotting a pretty flower called Asphodel that resembled a lily and was a useful potion ingredient. Harry had a pretty good time, and decided that he was a fan of plants, especially ones as well behaved as this one. He told Neville as much, telling him that lilies were his favourite flower and Professor Sprout confirmed that lilies were indeed closely related to Asphodel. Neville, for that matter, was also enjoying himself greatly, and he seemed to be an expert with a trowel. He earned 5 points before the end of the class.

Their next lesson was Defence Against the Dark Arts, and upon arrival in the classroom where it had been held the previous day, they were met by a teacher who they had not yet met, who introduced herself as Professor Oakby, who informed them that their lesson would be taking place in the library rather than in the classroom. Both were on the same floor and within the main block of the castle, but it still took a particularly long time to make the trip, because the layout of Hogwarts castle was, it was becoming eminently clear, a convoluted mess. When they arrived, this was the first years' first look at the library. It was a 2 story cavernous room that was one of the most beautiful they had seen yet. Huge bookshelves were placed every few metres down each side of the room, with tables and study space between the shelves. There was a second floor of the library along the two sides with ladders up in each study section, and at the back end, to the right of the entrance, there was an area that was fenced off from floor to ceiling with metal criss-crosses and there was a rope across the entrance, blocking it off from access. Oakby whispered that this was the Restricted Section, one could only get a book from in their with a teacher's specific permission. At the opposite end was a large stained glass window with a desk in front, and sat at the desk was a woman who Harry assumed to be the librarian. She was an older woman, who looked distinctly unhealthy, with leathery skin, sunken cheeks and a long hooked nose, and she looked to weigh far less than Harry thought she perhaps should. She seemed to be taking deep breaths to prepare herself for the oncoming onslaught of First Years. Oakby introduced her as Madam Pince, and warned them to be quiet whilst in the library. They were given a whistle-stop tour of the library and the catagorisation system, where books where organised according to topic, author and title. Their task for the remainder of the lesson, unfortunately for those of the class with less of an attention span, was to read a number of chapters from a few books. It was unbelievably tedious. Harry idly doodled through much of the lesson. He drew a lot of eyes, he could do very detailed eyes. Somebody else at Harry's table must have had a similar idea, judging by the fact that a copy of _Banshees to Boggarts: A Guide to Dark Creatures_ began to scream "HELP HELP HELP I'M BEING DEFACED HEELP MEEEEEE" and Madam Pince was almost immediately upon them with an incredibly angry look on her face and terrifying threats on her lips.

If Harry had thought that lesson was boring, his afternoon was definitely not going to be better. After lunch, which was a quiet affair, the first years went to their first History of Magic lesson, which was so much worse than when he had done it with Remus. The teacher was a ghost who went by the name of Binns, and by the end of the lesson, most of the students in the class wished they could join him in death. Perhaps Binns' lack of vocal chords could excuse him of only having one dull tone of voice, but the words he said were just as boring. Harry thought they had covered social impacts of the 1612 goblin rebellion, but it was very difficult for him to tell, having only listened to approximately 50 words. Harry thought at some point during the lesson that he would never have to set aside specific time to practice his drawing, his lessons would definitely suffice.


End file.
